Abused Angels
by Sora Means Sky
Summary: A few years before the Venturi's and McDonald's met, Edwin and Lizzie experience a similar fate because of Casey and Derek. ANGST CUTTING Christmas/One Year Anniversary Special AU
1. A Chance

A boy of eleven finished pulling his books out of his locker, throwing them into his bag and the bag over his shoulder. He slammed his locker closed and started to walk down the hall.

"Edwin," an older boy, a thirteen year old eighth grader said. "My science paper wasn't in my bag. Where is it?"

"I-I-I don't k-know D-Derek," the younger boy, Edwin stuttered as the older boy walked up the now empty hall to where Edwin stood beside his locker.

Derek came up to Edwin and pushed him against the locker. "Where's my paper? You didn't not do it did you? Or did loose it?"

"I-I d-did the p-paper," said Edwin his hands balling into fists, digging his nails into his palms, willing himself to scream or to cry or to shout out or even to run. These fists were not to hit Derek, his older brother with.

Derek grabbed one of Edwin's arms turned it over so the palm was face up. Derek pushed the sleeve up and looked at the cuts along the arm, some healed, some had formed into scars and some were still covered in scabs. Edwin had not done this to himself. He had no to for Derek did plenty of it to Edwin.

"Do I really need to punish you again?" asked Derek, digging his own nails into his little brother's arm which he held tightly.

"N-no," stuttered Edwin. "P-please don't. I-I h-have the p-paper done."

"Then why wasn't it in my bag?"

"I-I h-had m-my own h-homework and I f-f-forgot about it," stuttered Edwin, agraid of what new way his brother would come up with to torture him.

"Well, it'll be the last time you forget," said Derek, dropping Edwin's arm and grabbing Edwin by his shirt collar. Derek pulled his other arm back for a punch.

"Boy?" said the voice of a janitor as she rounded the corner. He only saw Derek with arm raised in what he assumed was a stretching position. The janitor was partially deaf, partially blind and daft in his old age. The school only kept him on because he had been there so long. "Shouldn't you have gone home long ago?"

"Sorry," said Derek turning around, dropping his arms all at once. "I was trying to…..convince….my little brother to come home," Derek explained innocently, once again making it look like Edwin was the bad guy.

"Well, hurry up," said the janitor turning and shuffling away.

Edwin sighed and started to inch away from Derek during this exchange.

Once the janitor was out of earshot, Derek whirled around and said, "Saved by the bell this time dear little brother. Well, I'll just have to take care of your "punishment" later."

Derek picked up his bag which he had dropped at the beginning of this exchange and walked away, Edwin following silently, ten or so steps behind. He willed himself to remain quiet.

"Today," said Derek. "I have a social studies essay on whether or not slavery in Africa was alright. I'm for it so remember that when you right the essay and math. Pages sixty through sixty one are due Wednesday.

"Yes," said Edwin quietly. Today was Monday.

Since they lived close to the middle school, Derek and Edwin walked to and from shcool everyday, since their dad worked a lot. They were soon home and Derek grabbed some chips and soda and plopped on the couch with the TV remote, only after throwing his school bag at Edwin. He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly silent and into his room where he dropped everything on his bed and booted up his computer. He'd gotten it last Christmas and loved it dearly. If it wasn't for the computer he wouldn't know how to handle this suddenly heavier work load.

Ever since Edwin had been in second grade, he could remember doing Derek's homework. At first he hadn't realized what he was doing since Derek told him this was special work and that if he did it he would become more like his brother, whom Edwin aspired to be.

Edwin wasn't completely naïve and slowly started to recognize that he was being "used." Of course he didn't know what being "used" meant but all the same, he knew what was going on wasn't right.

It was the middle of third grade when Edwin had finally gotten the courage after a year and a half of doing Derek's homework to confront him about it.

"Why?" Edwin had said to Derek. "Why do I have to do your homework?" Edwin had learned what this work actually was.

"So you can become like me," said Derek, feeding Edwin the same lie that he had been feeding him since the beginning.

"That's a lie," Edwin stated. "I'm not doing your homework anymore."

That's when the abuse started, little things at first. Derek, who had been watching T.V when Edwin had confronted him had gotten up, walked over to Edwin and had pinched him on the cheek. Hard. It slowly escalated. Pushing and shoving "accidentally" into things at first. For the most part this only left bruised and even then not big ones, or terrible one. This happened through third and most of fourth grade.

It was the end of fourth grade, Derek in sixth that the real abuse started. Edwin had refused to do Derek's science project after Derek had shoved Edwin into the fridge the previous night for getting an A- on a science paper of Derek's. Edwin was just fed up with everything and hadn't yet had his spirit broken.

Derek went berserk and ended up slamming Edwin so hard down the stairs and Edwin had to have stitches in his head. Edwin could still remember the pain. Derek of course hadn't gotten into trouble at this time and said Edwin had been running and slipped down the stairs. Derek never apologized for pushing Edwin down the stairs. Things only got worse.

But some good did come of this. If Derek had never started forcing Edwin to do his homework, Edwin would never of gotten a computer. If he'd never gotten a computer he would of never met SoccerGirlAbused. But that only happens later. Not much later, but still, later.

Edwin sat down in front of his computer and pulled up Microsoft Word and the Internet. He went to his e-mail and scanned through the spam, which was basically all he ever got. Every now and then he'd come across something good but this was rarely.

One subject title did catch his eye today though. "An Abused Angel," it said. Curiously, Edwin opened the e-mail and began to read. It was a poem.

_An angel am I,_

_Yet nobody cares._

_All they do is yell,_

_And hit. That is it._

_The other night,_

_It was worse._

_The curse words stung the air._

_The bruises were the worst, ever._

_The cuts, deep and wide._

_Like oceans._

_No one deserved this,_

_No matter what they say._

_Are you abused?_

_Yet cannot so not say?_

_Then click on the link._

_Come to heaven._

_A place for all us abused angels._

Edwin stared at the blue link beneath the poem. Could these people really help him? Could they actually stop Derek? How had they known anyways? Or was it pure dumb luck? Whatever the case, Edwin groped for the mouse and then clicked on the link. Nothing worse could happen now.

Once the page as loaded, the screen was filled with a soft blue. A pretty angel girl stood at the top of the page and beneath it the words "Welcome" were in another shade of blue. Then there were two links. Sign up and log in. Edwin clicked on Sign Up and filled in his information, choosing the name AbusedMathKid. He soon clicked the confirmation e-mail in his inbox and was exploring the site.

Edwin soon found the forums and one titles "Share Your Stories." He went into it and started to read some of the people stories. A lot of these people were worse off then him, abused not just physically by their parents but sexually and verbally. Most of the time, Edwin couldn't finish a single story. But then, he found one story he could finish.

It was only a paragraph long and was written by a girl called SoccerGirlAbused. No had responded to her message. The message was:

_I was abused for three years by my sister. She would pinch and prod and feed me hot sauce. But I got sick of it and one day rebelled against her. Sure, I ended up in the hospital for two days but I am free of her abuse. I am free to be happy and free to live a new life. I'm free. Free as and angel. I'll help for become free as a bird too. Just drop me a message._

The first thing that went through Edwin's head was that this girl was just like Edwin. She had a sibling that abused her. The second thing was that she was no longer abused by her sibling. His mouse cursor hesitated over the message button. What would she say to him? What would she be like? Could she actually help or was it a lie? Well, he reasoned, he wouldn't know until he tried. He clicked on the button.


	2. Meeting

It was three days later and still Edwin had not received an answer to his message. He was starting to think that he was never going to get one. The math problems and social studies had been turned in and were sure to be given A's thanks to Edwin's hours of research, numerous rough drafts, and solving the same problem five times to be sure he had the right answer. Right now he was typing a response to the first chapter of a book that Derek was being required to read for language arts. It was a very good book in Edwin's opinion, but alas, the work was still pushed on to Edwin. The only things Derek read were the T.V guide and the sports section of the newspaper… Maybe.

"You got mail!" the computer said softly in a male falsetto. It was the only free voice on Edwin's e-mail site. Edwin pulled up his inbox and opened up the message. It was from that girl he had e-mailed. SoccerGirlAbused. He was finally going to get an answer. He opened up the message and quickly read the words across the screen.

_Hi. Sorry it took so long to answer. Soccer match. Hopefully nothing too bad has happened in my absence and I'm real glad that you want some help. Just give me the basis of the situation and I'll send back some advice._

_Hey, you wanna be friends? I'd like to do so. Umm… do you like math? I could use some help…_

A slow smile spread across Edwin's face and he replied immediately. Of course he wanted to be friends, he said. He also explained about his brother Derek and what he would do as "punishment." He also said that he would be more than happy to help her with her math and to just send over the problems. He'd help her.

The message was sent and Edwin continued to be happy, right through dinner.

"You seem awfully happy," commented George nonchalantly. "Something happen today at school?" He put a piece of bread in his mouth.

"No," said Edwin, his smile quickly disappearing, fearing Derek might do something later on or even tomorrow. "I just…. Got a really good group for a science lab at school," Edwin quickly fibbed.

"I see," said George. "How was your day, Derek?"

"Really good," said Derek, ripping up his steak with his fork and knife, almost clumsily. "I handed in today with confidence an essay and math homework. I believe I'll get another A on them."

George nodded and said, "I just don't really understand how you do so well on the normal work but not on the tests…." Said George with a sigh. "I suppose it's just nerves."

"Yeah, nerves," said Derek casting a sharp glace at Edwin while George got up and took his plate over to the sink.

Four year old Marti laughed at this and ended up corn up her nose.

"Marti," said George, coming over with a tissue, "Please try and me more careful."

"Otay," said Marti as she blew through her nose to get the corn out.

Edwin couldn't help but smile at his younger sister who hardly knew that Edwin was her older brother. Derek had made sure of this, making it seem like he was Marti's only older brother and cuddled and played games with her and treated her like a little princess. Edwin could never understand why Derek didn't like him but did like Marti. That was some useful information he had forgotten to tell SoccerGirlAbused. He'd have to remember next time.

"What are you smiling at?" said Derek almost hostilely.

"N-nothing," stammered Edwin quickly averting his eyes to look at something else. His eyes found a picture of an apple on the wall that George had bought at a street fair some years ago and had hung on that particular wall ever since.

Dinner was soon ended with George taking Marti upstairs for a bath and Derek pushing dishes duty off onto to Edwin once again. Luckily, Edwin liked this time to be able to think about everything. But today he would not be so lucky since Derek decided to torture him with banter.

"You told him didn't you?" said Derek slowly pulling on Edwin's hair.

Without crying out, Edwin managed to choke out, "No, I haven't."

"Then why exactly are you so happy?" said Derek letting go of Edwin's hair and proceeding to pinch him on a bruise.

"I met someone," said Edwin through gritted teeth.

"Who?" said Derek, pinching harder.

"No one," said Edwin.

Derek let go. "Forget about them. No one likes you. No one. Not me, not Marti, not the teachers, not anyone. Even dad just pretends." With one last whack to Edwin's head, Derek claimed the couch.

Edwin sighed. How on earth was he going to keep the Abused Angels site a secret?

_A/N: Sorry for it being shorter! I just can't think of anything else as the moment and it was a nice cliffhanger and thank you so much for all the reviews and being paitent for me to update this story! A special that of Tilvir for yelling at me to update at school!_


	3. Temptation

It was the next day when Edwin, checking his inbox, Edwin had received an answer from his mysterious correspondent.

_Okay, don't freak out,_

The message said. There was a big long gap and then a few words at the end.

_Highlight the above and click off of the highlighted area if someone comes in the room._

Edwin highlighted the blank area, after glancing over the easy one step algebra problems underneath those last few word, having no idea what to expect. He started to read the words.

_First of all, there isn't really much to do to get out of the situation you're in, unless you tell an adult, but I wouldn't recommend that personally. It usually leads only too more trouble then what its worth._

_Okay, second of all, go get a knife._

There was another blank gap, though not nearly as long as the first.

'A knife?' Edwin thought dumbly. 'Why do I need a knife?'

To comply with the command wasn't difficult though. George was still at work; Derek was outside, trying to show Marti how to play basketball. All Edwin had to do was go down the stairs and into the kitchen, open up the silverware drawer and pull out a slender knife. It was the kind with only a slightly serrated edge and a wooden handle, the black between the two pieces of wood.

He went back up the stairs and sat down at his computer again. He quickly scrolled through the gap and read the next portion.

_Doing this is kind of scary at first, but trust me when I say it helps with the pain._

_Place the knife with the edge a fourth of the way from elbow to wrist on the inside of your arm. Push gently._

Was this girl insane? You didn't hurt yourself on purpose, no matter what else was going on. He read a bit further on.

_You probably won't do this now, but keep the knife handy. At one time or another, this will appeal to you and you will do it._

Edwin had given this girl a voice. Middle pitched, kind of soft, slight nasal. It was a pretty voice to Edwin and he imagined her saying those last few words with a great conviction. How could she be so sure of herself?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late at night and Edwin lay on his bed. It had been three days since he had read the message sent to him by SoccerGirlAbused and he still hadn't replied. He had nothing to say to someone who was crazy.

But he still wanted to respond, he still wanted to have a friend. He hadn't returned the knife; it was in his sock drawer. He rolled over.

Edwin had only felt so confused once before and that was the night before refusing to do Derek's home work anymore, so many years ago. At least, that what it seemed like.

He sat up and rubbed his head where he had hit it when Derek had pushed him into the edge of a door earlier today. Sometimes, the fact that Derek always had whatever he wanted and always got away with everything just made him so mad.

Edwin lay down again and started to count sheep. He got to 163 when he fell asleep. Tomorrow would be another day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three more days later, Edwin decided on a response to his online contact. Short simple and sweet. He told her that she was crazy.

A few hours later, he had a response.

_No, I'm not. Just do it. I do it all of the time. Nothing's wrong with me. If he's anything like my sister, it'll creep him out or scare him and he'll leave you alone._

_Or you could talk to your brother and tell him that it's a good outlet…_

_Maybe he'll start hurting himself instead of you._

Edwin just shook his head at this message. He wasn't that kind of person. But this girl intentionally hurt herself. By cutting herself. 'Well if she does it… maybe it is okay.' The thought slithered silently into Edwin's head, like a snake.

Shaking his head, the thought was quickly banished. Hurting yourself on purpose was wrong and he knew it. The loss of too much blood and you could die. Edwin responded to this message by saying that cutting yourself was wrong and if the blood lost was too great you could.

Edwin stood up from his computer and opened his sock drawer and started to rummage through the socks. He saw the knife and started to reach out for it. He snapped out of the trance and slammed the door close. He would not cut. He would be stronger then that.

Edwin walked out of the room and down stairs to grab a snack. Hopefully Derek was in his room. Alas, he was not so lucky.

"Whatcha doing?" Derek demanding he flipped through some channels on the couch.

"Nothing," Edwin lied as she started to rummage through the fridge.

"That don't look like nothing," said Derek, turning around to see Edwin put a strip of cooked bacon in his mouth. "That's my bacon."

'Oh no,' thought Edwin and quickly said, "I'm sorry," in the most pathetic, apologetic tone he could muster.

"No your not," said Derek standing up and walked over to Edwin, the fridge door still open. The bacon had been left over from BLT's the previous night. Derek grabbed Edwin's right wrist and twisted it slightly.

"Stupid," said Derek, whirling Edwin around and pushing him into the fridge which he closed with his foot. Edwin was then pressed to the fridge with his right arm twisted around and pinned to his back. His left couldn't do much, except be a nuisance since it was trapped between his chest and the fridge.

Derek then grabbed the pressure points on Edwin's neck and quickly let go three or four times before punching him, with about medium strength on Edwin's shoulder blade.

"I'm home!" George shouted slamming the door.

Derek immediately let go of Edwin and ran to go meet his father.

"Daddy!" squealed Marti, scooting down the stairs on her bottom to go and meet her dad.

Edwin quickly walked out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. George didn't notice, having scooped up Mart and swinging her into the air and then talking to Derek about the latest football game.

Up his room, safe in his haven once more, Edwin walked over to the sock drawer and opened it.

_**A/N: **Okay, yeah this story has changed drastically to fit to how I'm feeling in life right now. Hopefully this chapter wasn't **too** OOC. Yeah... Umm.. longer this time and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you for all the reviews and support and please continue to show your patronage!_


	4. Firsts: The Almost Cut and Lizz

It'd been about fifteen minutes and Edwin was sitting under his lamp light, legs crossed, left arm bared. He was holding the knife above his arm, fear coursing through his body. His mouth tasted vile, but he couldn't move. The fear gripped him like a vice. 'This is wrong,' he kept telling himself, but his hand wouldn't listen. His body shook, as if he had hypothermia.

Soon, too soon, the blade of the knife rested gently on the place SoccerGirlAbused had prescribed. Lightly he pushed and then he push-

He didn't. "Dinner!" George yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Edwin swallowed but didn't move. "J-just a minute," he stuttered, the words tripping over his tongue on the way out. He let go of the knife and it clattered to the ground. Edwin stared at his arm, at the dent the blade of the knife had made.

There was no blood, just a red dent. If Edwin had only pushed a little harder, or George had been five seconds later in calling, Edwin would have drawn blood on his first time.

Throwing a blanket over the knife, Edwin pulled down his sleeves and made his way downstairs and to the table where George, Marti and Derek were already eating. He quietly took his seat and quickly ate a small amount of dinner before disappearing back upstairs.

He didn't bother moving the knife, or the blanket on top of it. Instead he threw himself on his bed and laid there. How did he feel? Miserable. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his arm. The dent and redness were already receding. This only would happen on the first time though. The more you did it, the longer they took to heal. The harder you pushed, the longer it took the cut, the longer it would take it heal. Sure, even if you never actually broke skin to where it'd bleed, you would still have marks. Scars could still form.

Cutting was bad. And while Edwin knew this, he didn't know all that could happen. He didn't know that you could make people who didn't even know you worry. He didn't know that he wouldn't be able to wear short sleeves. Ever. Okay, sure, he could hardly do that now because of all the bruises, but having to hide something you did to yourself was different then hiding something someone else did. You felt… guilt. Guilt and shame.

But Edwin didn't realize this. He was simply thinking tat SoccerGirlAbused was right and that he'd be fine as long as he never actually drew blood. But he was wrong. Oh, was he wrong. Because once you start, only a few things can make you stop. And one of them is love.

Edwin didn't realize it, but he'd fallen asleep with the light on, and with Derek's homework unfinished. It was only a few minutes before Edwin had to leave for school when he awoke, sunlight blaring in his eyes. He had just shoved a clean shirt on and scooped up all this things into his bag when George was yelling up the stairs for Edwin to hurry up.

Honestly, George had forgotten about his younger son. Edwin, in George's opinion was always so self sufficient and quiet, it was so easy to forget him.

"Hold on!" Edwin yelled, throwing the blanket that was on the floor onto his bed. That's when he saw the knife. That despised knife. The knife that could cause so much pain. Edwin held his breath and picked it up and threw it into his sock drawer. He slammed the drawer closed and threw on a light jacket before grabbing his school bag and running down the stairs. He'd been careful to wear a long sleeve shirt.

They all soon left, George and Marti in the car (Marti was to go to daycare) and Edwin and Derek on foot. "Here," said Derek, giving his school bag to Edwin before running on ahead where a few of his friends were. Edwin kept walking, lugging the two bags. His thoughts soon turned to what would happen when Derek realized Edwin had in the space of only a few weeks, had forgotten his homework again.

But these thoughts didn't stay long. They soon turned to his arm. Carefully, being sure he was far enough behind Derek and his friends, Edwin pushed up the sleeve of this coat and jacket and stared at the spot. A thin line was all that could be seen, but to Edwin it stood out as if it had the size of a ruler. Today would be a long day.

And Edwin's conclusions were soon proved true. To Edwin, it felt as if he spent the whole day trying to avoid showing his arms.

Science had been the hardest. With the lab, they had to roll up their sleeves but Edwin kept slipping his back down. He couldn't risk people seeing the mark. It could be the end of him practically.

"Edwin, roll up your sleeves," the teacher demanded for the fifth time that hour. Edwin was a good kid; she didn't understand what was going on with him today. "I'd like you to stay after class for a few minutes, please."

"Ooo," said one kid from across the room. "The Great Edwin has to stay after class."

"Edwin, after class? Dang, now I've seen everything," another kid commented in amazement.

Edwin painstakingly rolled up his sleeves, just to the elbow. The faint scar would still be able to be seen though. Edwin carefully kept the underside of his armed turned towards his body, careful not to let his wrists be seen.

Five minutes till the end of class, Edwin rolled his sleeves down to cover his arms again as she put a few of the beakers away, the cold glass being warmed up by his body heat and wiped the table with some of that brown crappy school paper towel. He noticed the kids whispering and tried to make out what they were saying. Anything, he was doing anything to keep from remembering that he had to stay after class to talk to the teacher. It was only fourth hour. Lunch was after this class…. His mind kept wandering.

Finally the bell rang and the students rushed out of the classroom, the teacher, Mrs. Clements having said it to be okay. Edwin picked up his binder and his books and walked up the teacher's desk.

"Y-you wanted to see me," he stuttered, staring at the top of the desk.

"Something seems to be troubling you, Edwin," the teacher said softly, turning from her computer and standing p behind her desk. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"N-no," Edwin stuttered again.

"Edwin," the teacher said seriously. "Is your father abusing you?"

"No," said Edwin confidently. His father was not abusing him. It was the truth. Would it be a lie not to say that his brother was? What Derek did was more then just sibling rivalry.

Mrs. Clements sighed softly and said, "You may go, but remember that if you ever need to talk to me, I'm here."

Edwin nodded and ran out of the room. On the way to the lunch room, he stopped at his locker, and using the door as a shield from the other kids, he looked at the scar again. He'd already looked at it at least once in every hour. The mark was still there, fainter, maybe then in the morning, but still there all the same.

Edwin shoved his sleeve down as he got his lunch and went to the cafeteria. He sat down in his usual corner, expecting a quiet lunch, but he wasn't quite so lucky. A girl plopped herself down across from him and looked at him.

Edwin glanced up. The girl had mouse brown hair and blue eyes. He kept staring, his sandwich falling to the table.

"What? Do I have peanut butter on my nose?" the girl asked in a middle pitched tone with a bit of nasal. It was the same voice as Edwin had given to his acquaintance on Abused Angels.

"N-no," stuttered Edwin quickly looking down. It was impossible for this girl and SoccerGirlAbused to be the same.

"My name's Lizz," said the girl as she stood with the garbage. "And I know what's going on." She walked over to the garbage cans and threw her garbage away. Then she left the cafeteria, leaving Edwin with too many questions. What did she know about? Being the prime one.

_**A/N: **Here's another update! The climax should happen in the next chapter if everything goes according to plan. So far I have to ideas. One involves Derek at school and another involved Marti, Derek at home Vote for whichever one you like! Ummm... most of this chapter and the things that happen are based on things that actually happned to me and how I was feelings. I know, I know it sounds fictionalized but I tried to be authentic as possible. The whole teacher thing, I really did fear happening. Not in science though, but in Math (stupid class felt like it was ninety degrees!). Oh and I thank everyone for all the support your giving me. And check out my profile for some possible future stories._


	5. It's All My Fault

Edwin started to notice Lizz more

Edwin started to notice Lizz more. She was new to the school and was in three of his six classes. She was decently smart, but bad at math. She also enjoyed sports. Basketball the most. But she never talked to anyone else. And Edwin still hadn't the guts to ask her what she knew.

Edwin still continued to do Derek's homework and Derek still continued to abuse Edwin. Derek had recently taken to punishing the legs the most. There were scrapes and bruises all up and down them. But the weather was cool so Edwin could easily cover them with pants.

The worst one was from where Derek had shoved Edwin into one of the bathroom stall doors. It was because Edwin hadn't done Derek's homework again. And only if Edwin had been mistaken, he had seen worry on Derek's face.

And everyday at lunch, Lizz would sit across from Edwin at lunch. And everyday the two would talk. And everyday, once Lizz finished her lunch she would stand, throw it away and leave. And everyday, Edwin would wonder why.

Two weeks went by and for two weeks Edwin ignored SoccerGirlAbused. And that's when she burst. It was after dinner when he logged onto his computer. Amazingly, neither Derek nor Edwin had homework.

He saw three messages in his inbox all from the same person. SoccerGirlAbused. The first one was short and simple.

_You found the outlet works so now you ignore me._

The second one was a bit longer and didn't drip with the sarcasm of the first.

_You found that cutting yourself works so now you don't need anyone else. Now you can live your life alone._

_Well you can't._

The words stung. Especially since he heard them in Lizz's voice, that sweet voice of Lizz's. What would Lizz say if she knew that Edwin was times gripped with the insane urge to grab the knife and cut himself again? She'd go. That's what would happen. She would disappear as quickly as she came. At least, that's what Edwin fancied to himself would happen.

The third message was longer still.

_I guess you hate me now. I guess you don't think that I'm not worth your time. Or maybe that I'm crazy. That's it. I'm crazy and you don't want it to rub off on you._

_Well, I don't care. I don't carry if you never speak to me again. I don't care if you even get these messages. I DON'T CARE!_

Edwin stared at the computer screen. It was true. It was true that he'd been ignoring his first friend since Lizz had come into the picture. But Lizz was tangible. SoccerGirlAbused wasn't. She couldn't see him and couldn't really understand what was going on.

'Of course she can't if you don't talk to her!' his conscience shouted at him.

He replied. And he explained what was going on. He explained about Lizz and cutting. He could almost hear her remark about her being right. But almost. He couldn't put Lizz's voice to SoccerGirlAbused anymore. It just didn't… fit.

Edwin pressed the send button and then gave a heavy sigh. He'd hurt her. That's all he could think. And then an idea slithered into his head. He could hurt himself for hurting her. Edwin quickly shook his head, trying to clear himself of the thoughts but it wasn't working. The thought wouldn't disappear.

At last Edwin stood up and walked over to his sock drawer. He rummaged through the clothes in the drawer until he finally got to the bottom where the knife was. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled it out and walked over to where his lamp was. He sat down beneath it.

Edwin pulled up his sleeve and found where the first scar was. The knife hovered over it before moving down three fourths of an inch. Edwin lowered the knife to touch his skin. He pushed. And kept pushing. And there would be no one to stop him this time.

Edwin saw red around the edge of the blade and moved the blade away and saw the blood fill the thin cut. He was shaking and his breath was ragged in disbelief. His mind refused to accept that this had happened, that he had done this.

The cut was already starting to coagulate itself. Edwin stood up with the knife and examined the blade. Only a little blood was on it. Placing the knife under his bed, he intended on cleaning it up later. In the meantime, Edwin went quietly to the bathroom and washed the blood off before using some Peroxide on the cut. Finally, he placed a bandage on it.

Edwin returned to his room and just sat on his bed. What else was there to do? He felt like a wreck. Who wouldn't? He'd gone against his word, again, hurt a person. Everything was just a mess. And he couldn't fix it. That's what hurt the most. Alone he couldn't. Too many others were involved.

Sighing, Edwin rolled over on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to make the images of cutting himself go away. They wouldn't, they kept playing over and over again and again in his head. He wanted to cry, but he knew he couldn't. He'd done this to himself. He deserved the pain.

'No, you don't,' he told himself. 'The pen in mightier then the sword, after all. Brain over brawn.' Phrases such as these invaded his thoughts. But he had gone the wrong way, the way of cowards.

His thoughts were interrupted however when Derek barged into his room.

"Homework," was all Derek said. "You forgot to do it again. Once more and I'll be forced to take drastic measures."

"Like what?" said Edwin; a bit too defiantly. He even scared himself with how he had said it.

"Remember my friend the knife?" said Derek hopping on top of Edwin's back, pinning him to the bed. "We'll play knifey-forkey again."

"I'm not afraid of that knife anymore," Edwin said.

"Liar," said Derek, grabbing the pressure points on the back of Edwin's neck. "There's no need to pretend around me, lil bro. I know everything about you."

"No, no you don't," muttered Edwin so quietly even he couldn't hear it.

"Don't forget my homework again," said Derek, hopping off of the bed and walking out the door. Derek made sure to slam the door on the way out.

"I hate you," Edwin said just loud enough for Derek to hear it. Wisely, Derek ignored the remark. Edwin had picked up the knife again.

**_A/N:_ Well here's the next chapter. I don't have any excused for not updating sooner except that I'm lazy. Most of this chapter had been sitting on my computer for ages. I just need to finish it. I like the cliffhanger but I don't really like the Derek part too much. Sorry for no climax people. Went a bit different then I expected. Oh well. Please review. They give me hope!**


	6. Lizz Knows

A whole week

A whole week. A lot can happen in one week. Edwin had cut twice more, about the same terribleness as the first time he had drawn blood.

And Derek had started to notice the changes. While he never hurt Edwin on the arms anymore, it was always even worse then on the face, back and legs. His bruises and cuts had close to tripled since Edwin had first drawn blood.

And Lizz always had a worried look on her face and Edwin always did whatever he could to make her brighten up. Nothing ever worked.

Then came a Monday when two things would happen. Both of them forever life changing.

Lunch soon arrived on this faithful Monday. The first thing to happen was Lizz's out burst.

"Just stop doing it already," exclaimed the girl as soon as Edwin sat down.

"Stop doing what?" Edwin asked stupidly.

"This," said Lizz seizing Edwin's arm as she stood and shoved the Edwin's sleeves up to reveal three cuts, his first "dent" having faded into a very light scar that only Edwin could see because he knew where to look.

"But its okay," said Edwin quietly, knowing he would loose this fight. "Others do it."

"I don't want you to die," said Lizz quietly, sitting down.

Edwin knew what she was talking about. He had done research in my spare time about cutting and what could happen because of it. And each site always had ways to stop. And each time he read these ways and tips, he'd freeze and guilt and shame would seize him once more. But each time, he was able to ignore it.

He knew that cutting could be like a drug, and that people can easily get addicted to it, as Edwin was doing. And the more addicted you became, the deeper you went with each cut you made, the more you craved whatever high cutting gave you. Adrenaline, the feeling of life, whatever it was. For Edwin, it was calm and something he could control. Cutting never actually hurt, it was like a numbness in his arm but it was overridden by the fact that Edwin was controlling this.

He'd also discovered he wasn't a textbook case for cutting or self injury. He was a few years too young, and used a knife to cut. Most people just used nails or another sharp object to scratch themselves with until they bled. And unlike most males he hurt himself on his arms, not hands nor did he hit objects, he actually cut.

"But it helps," said Edwin quietly. "Really, it does."

"But in the long run it makes everything worse," countered Lizz. "Stop cutting."

"I can't," said Edwin as he took back his wrists and pulled the sleeves down.

"You can," said Lizz, encouragement filling her voice. "And I'll be here to help you. I promise." Little did either know, that this promise would soon be broken.

The two sat together in silence for a while, neither eating. And neither of them noticed the cafeteria get eerily silent as an eighth grader entered the room. None of the lunch monitors noticed, they were simply thankful for the reprieve in the noise. This eighth grader weaved his way amongst the sixth graders, spreading he simple truth that there was to be a fight after school, a fight between Derek Venturi, an eighth grader and Edwin Venturi in the parking lot. The only ones not to here were Edwin and Lizz.

Nothing happened within the rest of the school day of any importance but Edwin was clearly depressed.

The end of the day rolled around and Edwin walked to his locker, only to see two of Derek's friends guarding his locker. Edwin, even though he knew something was up, walked over there and opened his locker anyway. He put his books in his locker, swung it over his back and attempted to walk away. No success.

One of the guys grabbed Edwin's shoulder and started pushing him the other way. "Derek had requested your presence elsewhere," was all he said, shoving Edwin down the hallway.

"No," Edwin said, shrugging the hand off of this shoulder. "I'm not going."

"Derek thought you might resist," said the second boy, grabbing Edwin's arm and twisting it behind his back. The first boy did the same and they shoved Edwin along the hallway. Since nearly all of the kids knew of the fight, they didn't think anything of it. Some were even trying to keep teachers occupied so that they wouldn't and couldn't see what was going on. This fight was going to be big and they knew it. Who cared if it was Edwin getting beat up?

Cringing, and trying to not cry out, knowing that would only make matters, Edwin was basically dragged along. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be here. But it was out of his hands. He couldn't do anything except let himself be dragged along. And all of a sudden, he wanted to cut. He wanted his knife and he wanted to hurt himself. He wanted something that he could control.

"I'll walk from myself," blurted Edwin.

"What?" asked one of the boys.

"I'll walk to my doom myself. Please allow at least that much con- dignity."

"Sure," smirked the other as both boys shoved Edwin forward. "But don't try anything funny. Keep your hands where we can see them."

This basically meant Edwin hand to keep his hands behind his back. He clasped them together and dug his nails into the palm of his hand, so Derek's friends couldn't see what he was doing.

They reached the door and walked out into the parking lot and then behind the dumpster, where there still was some cement. Only a small crowd of kids were there. Only a selected few, mostly eighth graders, a few seventh graders and one sixth grader, Lizz. The other kids had been chased away. Derek didn't want the fight interrupted before he got a good start.

Edwin took his place across from Derek, hands still behind his back.

"Are you ready dear little brother?"


	7. Fight for Yourself

Edwin stared at his brother from across the twelve or so foot area where the fight would take place

Edwin stared at his brother from across the twelve or so foot area where the fight would take place. "Yes, I am ready," Edwin said, him arms dropping to his sides, palms inwards. "Do your worst."

"No!" cried a single voice. The voice of Lizz. From where she peered between two eighth graders she shoved herself forward. She shoved herself between the two eighth graders and ran in front of Edwin just as Derek began to charge towards Edwin.

Lizz stood there, facing Edwin, tears coming from her clenched eyes, her fists clenched as well. It didn't stop Derek. He ran right through her, as if Lizz was a ghost. And with the first punch in the cheek, cold reality began to topple on top of Edwin.

Lizz wasn't real and never had been. That's why none of the teacher's ever called on her. She was a figment of his imagination. Someone created to be a friend, a combination of his conscious and SoccerGirlAbused. Edwin didn't react to the first punch. Or the second. It was only on the third did Edwin think to dunk out of the way. He failed miserably. Instead of his cheek being hit again, his ear was clobbered.

Gripping his ear, Edwin ran to the other end of the area. Frantically looking around for Lizz, she was no where to be found. The "world" he had been living in had shattered, reality crushing him. Lizz wasn't real and he would need to get over that now.

"She's not real," he muttered through clenched teeth as he let go of his ear to dodge another blow from Derek. Edwin, in a split second decided that what he called reality was crashing down around his ears, so, he might as well go with a fight. Edwin, having no fighting experience at all, through a punch at Derek. It might as well be called a miss because it barely skinned Derek's cheek.

"Oh, so the puppy has learned to bark," said Derek smirking at his brother. Edwin pulled back, right in front of a couple of eighth graders. Derek tacked his brother to the cement and the people behind Edwin were forced back two or three steps. Edwin heard cloth rip and with a jolt of pain knew his shirt sleeves had torn as they had been dragged across the cement and then his skin was cut.

Derek sat on top of his brother, pinning Edwin's arm to his own chest. Edwin was completely out yet. He started wriggling and jerking violently… anything to try and get his brother off of him.

"Get off of me!" he yelled. It was somewhat muffled, due to the fact that his lungs were being crushed by someone a good head taller and a good fifteen or so pounds heavier. Edwin had stopped moving.

"Let me think…" said Derek. "No." It was a finale statement, at least it sounded that way.

With a finale jerk, Edwin rolled out from under Derek, causing more people to move backward, he stood up and quickly kicked Derek who was still on the ground in the chest. Derek fell over but wasn't stopped in the least. Edwin was quickly knocked to the ground, Derek having kicked him in the legs.

His palms sticky with blood, Edwin grabbed onto Derek's legs to try and keep from getting up. Bad idea. Derek promptly started kicking and had no troubled getting his legs free. Both boys stood up.

Edwin took the initiative and charged at Derek with a punch to the chest. With a gasp of breath, Derek grabbed Edwin and whirled Edwin to the ground. Proceeding to slam him to the ground, Edwin was once again being sat upon.

His cheek now covered in blood, Edwin lay there, limp. It was done. Edwin couldn't take anymore. He wasn't in nearly good of shape his brother. Edwin didn't have gym and there were no sports for sixth graders. Even if there were, Edwin couldn't do them and risk his bruises and cuts being seen.

"What is going on here?" asked a teacher who had heard some of the shouts from the crowd of onlookers and had decided to investigate on her way out of the school.

Derek quickly got off of Edwin and tried to cover up what was going on, "He came at me first."

Edwin said nothing and continued to lie on the ground, all of his will having left him.

The teacher walked over to Edwin and said, "Are you alright?"

"Mentally or physically?" he asked sarcastically from where he lay.

"Both… I suppose," the teacher said.

"I'm not okay."

"Can you stand?"

Edwin stood up and glanced around. The crowd had shrunk dramatically, many of the people running away, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Well, come on," said the teacher. "Off to the principal's office. He's still here."

Reluctantly, Edwin and Derek started to follow the teacher.

"It was self defense," said Derek, protesting. "Do we have to go?"

"Yes," said the teacher as they neared the office. "Yes, we have to."


	8. Conclusions

The two boys, Derek and Edwin sat in two chairs in the front of the principal's desk

The two boys, Derek and Edwin sat in two chairs in the front of the principal's desk. He was staring at the two. "I'll ask again. What happened and why?"

Silence. It was the third time he asked. The principal had already called the boys' father and was waiting for him to show up. "Fine," said Edwin. "I'll tell you."

"What happened?" breathed George heavily as he came in the office. He ran from the car into the school.

"That is what I have been trying to find out," said the principal, his name Mr. Camber. George walked over to Derek and looked him over. He had some scrapes on his arms and one on his face and quite a few bruises. There was more scrapes and bruises on his legs but they were covered. He turned to Edwin and saw his heavily bandaged arms and cheek.

"Boys," said George. "What happened?"

"Two of Derek's friends, who I don't know, forced me to go behind the school and Derek was there to fight. We fought," Edwin said simply.

"Derek?" asked George.

"No," said Derek. "What happened was Edwin told me to meet him out back for a fight and he came at me and beat me up."

"If that was true," said Edwin. "Why were there more eight graders? Besides, I'm not stupid enough to challenge you to a fight at school. And I didn't challenge you to a fight or go after you first. You did." He said it calmly. Not really caring much what happened now.

"There's something deeper going on here," said George suspiciously. "But we'll deal with that at home."

"A week's suspension is the usual punishment for fighting," said the principal filling out some forms. "I suppose you do agree?"

"Of course I do," said George. "Come on boys."

Edwin and Derek stood and followed their father out the door. They got in the car, both boys in the back seat and They got back home fairly quickly and went inside. Derek tried to get up the stairs and hide in his bedroom, but George quickly stopped him. "Table," he said sternly.

Edwin promptly sat down and Derek reluctantly followed. George sat down in front of both Edwin and Derek. "What's really going on here?" he asked, demanding to know with his tone.

"Nothing that I can't be handled," said Edwin after a short period of time.

"Alright," said George. "What is this that you can handle, all by yourself?"

"Derek."

George turned to Derek. "What's going on here?"

"Absolutely nothing," responded Derek.

George leaned back in chair. "We can sit here all night until I find out what's going on here."

Twenty minutes passed and George got up and walked over to Edwin. "Let me see your arms."

"No," said Edwin immediately, fear filling him from his heart, to his stomach to his toes. He couldn't let his father found out about him cutting. "There fine. The nurse bandaged them."

"I just want to see how bad they are," said George reaching towards Edwin's arms. Edwin flinched back and repeated what he had said before. "Edwin… what's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Edwin again.

"Edwin… please…" George pleaded.

"Alright, fine, I'll tell you," said Edwin with a smirk. "But really, why do you want to know so badly now? You never cared before… Never questioned before…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Derek has hit and bruised me and cut me more times then it's possible to count since. This has been happening since third grade. I'm in sixth now. Two and a half years and not once did you think to question anything that happened. Remember the time I had to have stitches in my head? Derek had shoved me down the stairs. That was the real reason. Derek's also been making me do his homework since second grade," said Edwin, who finally flipped.

"Is this true Derek?" George asked Derek seriously.

"Well… no… not really… alright… yeah, it is true," said Derek. He was only human and could only feel so much guilt without exploding.

George sat back on his heels. "Edwin, let me see your arms."

Edwin sat there and crossed his arms firmly. There was no way he was going to admit to be a cutter. No, never, not ever. It was too shameful and much too complicated. 'Oh Lizz,' he thought. 'Why did you have to go?'

George, out of seemingly no where, grabbed Edwin's left arm and shoved the sleeve up and started to take the bandaged off. Edwin's arms squirmed a bit but George had a firm grip on Edwin's wrist. Edwin winced slightly. At last, the bandaged were gone. The back of Edwin's arm was all skinned up but on the front you could see two light purple scars and a dark red one.

"Edwin," George said seriously. "Did Derek do this?"

The ones Derek had done were all scarred up and on the other and a lot smaller then these. "I did not do those," said Derek defending himself.

"No," said Edwin, softly and through clenched teeth. "I did it to myself."

"With what?"

"A knife."

George sighed and sat back once again. "I never thought either of you would ever act like this. How could you?"

Silence, dead silence. "So… what happens now," asked Derek after a while.

"Therapy I suppose," said George. "Cutting yourself and hurting your brother the way you did isn't natural. There must be some underlying cause…" He trailed off and then suddenly started again. "Have you done any of these to Marti? Derek do you cut yourself?"

"No and no," responded Derek. "Marti's two."

George sat there. "Promise me one thing."

"What?" asked Edwin.

"Never do any of this ever again," he said it seriously.

"Promise," said Derek quickly, wanting to get this over with.

Edwin was more hesitant. "I guess so. I promise."


	9. Epilouge: Discovery

A few years later George married Nora and Edwin's family increased by three

A few years later George married Nora and Edwin's family increased by three. Nora, Casey and Lizzie joined in, the girls now outnumbering the boys. Marty still considered herself a Venturi more than a McDonald.

Edwin's scars had also nearly faded into oblivion. Sure, he was still bullied by Derek but Derek had never hurt him again. Edwin had also never cut himself again, even if George still didn't trust him with the kitchen knives. Only George and Derek and Edwin knew why. It was too sore of a subject to touch upon.

Edwin had gone to a councilor for a year or so, but it was nothing serious. Edwin had been more cooperative than most patients which made the "healing" process as the doctor said easier. Edwin just wanted to put that part of his life behind and get on with his life. And after counseling, Edwin just went on.

Even if his father didn't trust him. He could only be in his room for half an hour at a time with the door open and had to do homework in the kitchen. George had altered his hours the best he could to be home more when his kids were. Edwin couldn't go anywhere alone or just with Derek. George didn't want anything more to happen.

He found a bit of a kindred spirit in Lizzie. They would sometimes ally together against Casey and Derek when they started having one of their quarrels and tried to draft their younger siblings. They would also talk. They would talk about math, sports, how messed up the world was and things like that. That's how Lizzie discovered Edwin's secret.

"Did you hear about Kyle Matts?" asked Lizzie. The two were sitting across the table from one another doing home work.

"Isn't that the boy that was beat to death by his mom?" asked Edwin.

"Yeah," said Lizzie with a bit of a sigh and set her pencil down. "Isn't it sad that one human being could be so mean to another? And even one that was more defenseless than itself?"

"It is sad but it happens all the time. That's just how the world's divided. Those who hurt others and those that are hurt. It's the sad reality. What's worse though is the ones that are hurt will look for ways out. Suicide, running away…" he trailed off. "The ones that hurt end up well off and those that are don't." Even now, Edwin still had very few friends and wasn't trusted by his own father while Derek was the school's hockey teams' star.

Lizzie gave him an odd look. "I have a secret to tell you. You seem like someone who would understand it."

"Okay," said Edwin, him finally setting down his own pencil. "What is it?"

"You write a secret on a piece of paper and I'll write mine down," said Lizzie, starting to write on a scarp piece of paper.

Edwin followed suit and both folded up their papers and handed them to the other. They read what had been writ. "No way," Edwin breathed as Lizzie stared at him.

"How'd you get it to stop?" Lizzie demanded, staring at Edwin and then the paper then back to Edwin.

"I…" he hadn't written that he'd been a cutter. But that really wasn't what made Derek's abuse stop… had it? "Derek and I got into a fight at school. That's how it all came out…" he trailed off. "How dad found out... What about you?"

"Well… I…" Lizzie stuttered. Then, she pulled up her sleeve and stuck out her arm. There were scars on it. "Mom found out about this, put me in counseling. I told the counselor the truth and she told my mom."

Edwin stuck out his own arm and used his own finger to trace where his own scars had once been. "I was told to by a girl online," he said. "She said it helped. Her username was SoccerGirlAbused."

"Your… your him?! Your that guy I told to cut!?" Lizzie yelled, standing up,

An innocent Marty came wandering into the kitchen wearing a tiara and held a fairy wand. "Cut what?" she asked walking over to the fridge and opening it up.

"Nothing," Lizzie said glancing over her shoulder at her younger step-sister.

Edwin looked at Lizzie. "Yep," he said, pulling his sleeve down.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie said softly, sitting back down. "I told you that before I was caught. And once I was caught… my mom wouldn't let me get back on the computer. George was the same way I suppose…"

"Yeah," said Edwin. "Parents just want the best for us I guess."

The two sat there and Casey came down the stairs, followed by Derek who was being dragged along by Casey.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Lizzie said quickly, flipping over the piece of paper that had Derek's note written on it. Casey walked over and picked it up and read it once. Then twice and once more for good measure.

"Derek," Casey said turning to said boy. "How could you do something like this?"

Marty wandered out of the kitchen and up to her room with some apple slices and a cup of milk.

"Seems your not much better," said Derek, waving the piece of paper with Lizzie's note on it in front of her face. "Face it. We're both controlling asses who couldn't accept the fact that we had competition when our younger siblings came along. Of course, I was luckier and had a smart brother to do my homework in elementary and most of middle school."

"I-I'm not," Casey stuttered not wanting to face reality. Casey knew what she had done and why but just wanted to forget it. She wasn't like that anymore.

"And then our dear little siblings got fed up and started cutting and then one thing led to another and our parents found out and the little duckies ended up in counseling," Derek continued, ignoring Casey's protest.

"Wait," said Lizzie. "How'd you find out about me cutting?"

"Your sleeve is up," said Derek motioning to Lizzie still bare arm. "But you mostly wear long sleeves so I just guessed."

Lizzie turned her head, a bit ashamed.

"Okay, so we now know all about everything that happened," said Edwin. "Let's just put it behind us and start over. Deal? Dad and Nora will never need to know that we know the whole truth and Marty never needs to know about any of this."

Marty was never told about what had happened between Edwin and Derek.

"Fine, deal," the others said.

"Okay, just go back and do whatever it was you were doing."

Each wandered back to what they were doing.

And no more was ever said.


	10. Lizzie's Story

It'd been the last straw. Simple and final, it was the final one. Rubbing her eyes with one hand she ran up the stairs, sobs racking her entire body. She tripped up the last few stairs but got up and continued on quickly, barely even noticing the pain. She ran into her bedroom and collapsed upon her bed. Slowly, her breathing started to come back to normal. She took deep breathes. In, out, in out. Repetitive, deep and calming breathes.

She lay on her bed for a few seconds, trying to resist this terrible urge that was tugging from both her stomach and her left arm. She gave in, rather quickly to this urge and stood. She reached under her mattress, as if searching for something, and soon drew her arm back, with what she had been looking for in hand. It was a small silver piece of metal with a hole in the very center of it. It was, in fact, a pencil sharpener blade. The girl sat down on her bed and uncovered her left arm.

With the dull side of the blade, she traced over a couple of light scars that were nearer her wrist and then moved along down. The scars became more prominent the closer you moved to the elbow with an actual cut that was still in the process of healing closest to the elbow. There were eight cuts, starting about two inches down the wrist (just past that vein cluster) going till about half an inch before the crook in the elbow.

After lightly tracing over all the scars (and cut), the young girl held the corner of where dullness met sharpness. She held it so the blade part faced her skin. Lightly she made a horizontal line through the two most centered scars on her arm. She always made this "practice mark" as a guideline for the real cut. It gave her more confidence, for some strange and twisted reason.

Without missing a beat, the girl tore the skin right along the practice mark. Red blood started to flow out. It wasn't a deep cut. The girl was too afraid to cut any deeper. She didn't wish death, only to make her self feel better. The euphoria that she was sent into every time she cut was addicting. The adrenaline that rushed through her veins was breathtaking. She loved it. She just didn't love what led up to it.

Her sister, nine of ten times, was the reason this young girl was forced to such drastic measures to make herself feel better. Her sister had been jealous from the very moment of her younger sister's birth. Even when they were younger, the elder sister had a habit of shoving her down, tickling her younger sister till she couldn't breathe. Simple things like that. When the younger had been in second grade, things got worse. Terrible bruises started appearing all over the younger girl. Unexplainable scrapes and cuts.

Their mother attributed it mostly to sibling rivalry and tried to spend equal time with both, if not a little bit more with her elder daughter. But things only seemed to get worse. The mother chose to ignore it, for it was quickly hidden from her as they continued to get older. When the younger sister had been in fourth grade, she ended up in the hospital with a broken wrist from, yep, you guessed it, her older sister. The two had been biking together and the older sister caused an "accident" to happen.

So, the younger sister took it upon herself to make herself feel better. All by some strange accident on the computer, she found out about self-injury. Of course she'd read about how bad it was. But she was young and figured out cut wouldn't matter. Oh how wrong she'd been. She'd been hooked. At first they had been small things, most just "additions" to cuts she already had from her sister. She had a few circles and squares and even a still faint heart shaped scar from fifth grade on her left ankle.

She was young, much too young to be resorting to such things. But in today's world, nothing seems impossible. Kids are having sex younger and younger, drinking younger and younger. So, logically, why shouldn't self-injury start younger and younger? It only makes sense, you see. Now back to this young girl.

She let the cut bleed for a few seconds and then stood up. She darted out of her bedroom, pencil sharpener blade hidden in a fist and darted straight into the bathroom, unluckily placed at the other end of the hallway. As soon as she was safely in, she shut the door and locked it. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the drawer below. She cleaned the cut and quickly bandaged it. She cleaned the blade as well.

Quickly she returned to her bedroom and hid the pencil sharpener blade from where she had got it.

"Lizzie!" a women's voice ran out. "Dinner!"

Lizzie thought, 'My name is Lizzie. And I'm a cutter.' She had come to terms with herself during this period of cutting. Before she'd always been hesitant. Now, it didn't bother her. Quickly she ran down the stairs to get dinner.

_A/N:__ Well, I was reading through the reviews for this story and figured that you guys deserved this as a Christmas present. It's not very good and I've actually been meaning to write this for a while. So voila, here it is._


End file.
